


Master of Death and Giver of Life

by ishala8



Series: Master of Death and Giver of Life [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-20
Updated: 2014-02-10
Packaged: 2018-01-09 09:31:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1144367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ishala8/pseuds/ishala8
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Master of Death is tired of life and having to see all that he cares about die around him. When he is offered a way out, he grabs it with both hands only to find it comes with a catch. He blames Luna.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

The third night after the Battle of Hogwarts Madam Pomfey slipped a Dreamless Sleep Potion in the pumpkin juice of the Man-Who-Conquered. The stupid boy had gotten it in his head that every casualty suffered in the War was somehow his fault so he had thrown himself in the relief efforts. After seeing him go for two nights without sleep, and knowing that he had hardly slept while on the run from Death Eaters, she felt justified in her intervention. Little did she know that her actions had enabled a message to reach Harry that would change his life forever.

::

The third night after the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry Potter fell into a potion-induced dreamless sleep. Due to the effect of the potion he was not haunted by his failures or terrorized by his fears, he was, however, paid a visit by none other than Death himself.

He appeared as a distinguished gentleman, with deathly pale skin and almost skeletal frame, sporting an expensive three-piece suit and the perfect English accent. Death served himself tea in the lush sitting room he had conjured within Harry’s consciousness, and looked up at the befuddled teen much like one would look at an insect trying to scamper up their shirt sleeve.

“It is meeting people like you that makes me wonder at how far the failings of human intellect go,” he began evenly, in a disinterested tone of voice that set the mood for the rest of their discussion.

He insulted Harry’s intelligence, his hair, his clothes, his parents, his dreamscape, even the air he breathed, all in that perfectly enunciated, cultured voice that he claimed as his own. He had tea, full with cookies and milk and sugar and perfectly piped canapés, all the while speaking in that neutral tone of voice, never offering Harry a seat in his own dreamscape and sounding so damn polite about everything!

“Excuse me, sir?” interrupted a bewildered Harry after enduring approximately seven minutes of the aforementioned scene. “Do I know you?”

“I’m the one your miserable little mind thought to enslave,” replied the man, folding his hands easily. “How did you think this would work boy? You would call and I would answer? I would drop everything and come to your aid or to perform your bidding? You will find that someone of my status and power does not conform well to change. You can try all you want, but I will fight your every whim every step of the way.”

It might have only been Harry’s imagination, but he would swear that the man’s voice finally held an inflection of anger. However, the point remained that Harry still had no idea who sat before him. If he had to guess, he would say it was some disapproving, self-punishing part of his own conscious. It was scary that he would think up a weird, lecturing old man and consider enduring his presence as enough penance for his mistakes.

“I am Death.” The man finally stated, seeing as nothing else was getting through to that thick-headed boy who thought himself to hold his obedience.

“Death?” Harry looked around uncertainly. “Death. _The_ Death?” Maybe if he continued saying the word with different inflections it would make more sense.

“The Death, indeed,” replied the man and looked over the teen standing before him once again. “I suppose if you can understand the prestige of my station the situation is not as bad as I expected. I will allow you no more than two favours a year. No–”

“Wait, wait, wait!” interrupted Harry. “I haven’t enslaved or tried to enslave anyone! Why would I want to enslave Death?”

“With the record you have in getting everyone around you killed the better question would be why you _wouldn’t_ want to enslave me,” observed the man. “It is a moot point, however, as you _are_ in fact the owner of all three Deathly Hollows.”

“I’m not!” protested Harry. “I lost the stone and snapped the wand! I only have the cloak!”

“Which brings me back to pondering the limited mental capacity of your species.” Death seemed to sign in resignation. “You may be nothing more than a human but even I will admit you are fairly powerful. You didn’t lose the Resurrection Stone, you burned it up. It was meant to allow the wielder access to one spirit at the time, not four. The Stone no longer exists so you are its last owner and remain as such.

“As for the Elder Wand, it is the most powerful wand in all existence, does it make sense in your mind that one of my creations would simply snap at the hands of a human like any other useless piece of wood? No, that wand was made to shatter in the hands of the unworthy, but always reform in the hands of the one who is worthy of wielding it. The only way it could be broken the way you broke is at the hands of one who is its chosen master and has no need of a wand. You have another wand or an amplitude for wandless magic. You did not need the Elder Wand so it allowed you to absorb its energy so as to prove useful to you. It is yours now and for all eternity.”

“That’s stupid!” claimed Harry. “I don’t want to be Master of Death or whatever! I just want to be normal!” He hesitated for a second then continued resolutely. “Take the cloak.”

“That Invisibility Cloak is bound to the Peverell line, now extinct sans the Potter line of whom you are the last. That cloak will remain in your possession until your death, or non-death as the case may be. And don’t demand that I reclaim it. You surely must be cleverer than that to have survived past infancy! If I had been able to, do you think I wouldn’t have reclaimed the only things in existence capable of causing my enslavement?”

Why did he make it sound like Harry had somehow orchestrated this entire situation? It was all Death’s fault for entering into stupid bets with humans and then simply handing humanity the tools required to imprison him. Was Harry the only one who thought himself not to be the mentally challenged in this room (mental landscape or whatever)?

“So what? You are telling me I’m stuck with you whether I want it or not?” demanded Harry angrily.

“Despite human belief, I have better things to do with my time than concern myself with individual humans. Your lifespan in miniscule in the face of my own; I could care less what it is you do with your time,” replied Death. “So no, you are not, as you so aptly put it, ‘stuck’ with me. If anything, I am the one stuck with you. The situation is, however, permanent so lines need to be drawn before either of us choses to do anything else that also proves to be irreversible.”

“I don’t want to have anything to do with you,” grumbled Harry stubbornly. He was tired of this conversation. Wasn’t sleep supposed to be restful?

“That would imply that you want to live forever,” observed the man blandly. “I would beg you to be mindful of your wording.”

“But I don’t!” protested Harry, distantly noting that he was close to wailing. “I want to marry Ginny, become an Auror, have kids and grandkids and hopefully die peacefully of old age!”

“I’m afraid that last one is off the table,” remarked Death evenly and then seemed to stare at him thoughtfully. "As we both seem to desire minimal interaction with the other, I believe there is a solution to which you would be amenable.”

“And what is that?” Harry couldn’t help it if he came across as defensive. Last time his name was involved in a proposed deal he found himself walking willingly to his death.

“I will give you one gift, and one gift only, before considering my service to you fulfilled. You will remain my master in name only and we will both go our separate ways, continue as we have been.”

“Until I die and you come to collect,” replied Harry in an attempt to clarify.

“No, the immortality is permanent, I’m afraid,” said Death, sounding completely insincere in remorse. “Comes with the title you made yourself incapable of parting with.”

Something niggled at the back of Harry mind at that, shouting that immortality was bad, very bad. However, despite the quite substantial part of his consciousness flailing to press the matter, the unyielding light in Death’s timeless eyes advised that such an attempt would prove detrimental to more that Harry’s mental and physical health.

“What gift?” he demanded instead? Maybe he could bring back Sirius or Remus and Tonks or his parents. Maybe he could ask for the one he ended up with (it would definitely be Ginny, but he didn’t want the man siting motionless in front of him to mock his phrasing once more) to share immortality with him. Maybe this whole Master of Death thing wouldn’t be as tragic as he thought it would be.

“I do not know,” came Death’s disinterested answer. “It will manifest in whatever it is you truly need or desire, or whatever you will need or desire most in the future. There is no precedent for a situation such as the one we find ourselves in, you understand. Generally with these things, the magic focuses on the moment of greatest need or despair in your entire lifetime and arms you with whatever is needed to get you through that moment.”

“Like what?” pressed Harry. The whole proposal sounded shifty to him.

“In ancient times many magical beings passing themselves as gods would make such deal with mortals,” explained Death and Harry could truly not interpret anything through his voice or expression so he focused on his words. “Alexander’s deal allowed for anyone who stood in his rise of power to simply drop dead. He was known as Great thanks to that particular gift, but he had acquired it at the expense of a life cut short. You never know what megalomaniac rulers and would be conquerors think when they scheme. Maybe to him it truly _did_ prove to be a gift.

“Then again, Cleopatra’s gift was the manifestation of the asps she used to kill herself with at the end. All snakes are magnificent creatures but I cannot fathom how using them to kill one self can be interpreted as making best use of ‘a gift manifested in a moment of need’. People really should be mindful of their phrasing, minor deities have absolutely no honour.”

Harry snorted. Yeah, right! Death had managed to enslave himself due to a stupid bet, how was his phrasing any smarter or more careful than that of mere mortals?

“There is no need to worry,” continued Death. “My powers extend far beyond those of anything you could ever imagine. Whatever the gift turns out to be you will surely benefit from it eventually.”

Harry did not like this. He didn’t like it at all. He also didn’t want to be here anymore. The more time they spent discussing, Death’s presence seemed to seep and influence his consciousness. It felt like an unyielding load or dark stain that was sapping at his energy and muddling his thoughts. He just wanted out of his mind, out of this dream/meeting, out of the opulent lounge area and out of this situation. As the last wasn’t possible, he went for the only thing that would hopefully remove the heavy stain that was slowly seeping into his very being.

“Fine, whatever,” he agreed and resignedly extended his hand to shake the one Death was offering him while looking at him like one would look at a curious, new species of bug. There was absolutely nothing about this whole deal or situation that felt right to him. But seriously! What is one to do when trapped in their own consciousness with a powerful being? He distantly wondered why his experience with Voldemort had not prepared him for this eventuality. 

Suddenly, he stopped thinking all together as his hand came into contact with Death’s papery, cold skin and a burst something that felt remarkably like lightning jumped up the connection and raced through his body only to settle next to his heart.

::

Harry woke screaming and clutching the centre of his chest in the makeshift Hospital Wing that had been erected in Hogwarts. Madam Pomfey and two of the Healers that had been sent over to assist her from St Mungo’s rushed to his side and it took the combined effort of all three of them to hold him down long enough to shove Calming and Sleeping Potions down his throat.

When Harry stopped thrashing around, Pomfey sent a slashing hex at his shirt so as to get to the presumed injury underneath. What she saw froze her to the bone. There, just below the hollow of Harry’s throat, an angry red mark stood in stark contrast to his pale skin. It was a triangle intersected by a straight line and surrounded by a circle. If she didn’t know any better she would say that it had been branded onto the boy’s skin.

She sent the strongest healing spell she knew at the mark and screamed at the two healers beside her to do the same. She knew it was futile, but she had to try. The boy had just gotten rid of a curse scar, she would be dammed if she allowed him to live with another.


	2. After the War (or the Beginning of the End)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These next two chapters are a quick summary of Harry's life before Middle-earth. No elves until chapter 5, but I beg you to bear with me because the events in these chapters are actually important later on in the story.
> 
> Edit: 06/10/2014  
> \- Corrected a few grammatical and spelling errors.

Harry’s new scar scared him. Most of the time, it throbbed like something living, but then there were other times it burned. He simply couldn’t figure out a pattern to why it was doing what it did. He tested the theory that it hurt when Death was near, much like his previous curse scar had hurt when Voldemort was in proximity. After lurking around hospital hallways for two days he concluded that no, the scar did not pain him when someone nearby died. Then he was able to rule out that the reaction was triggered by any sort of proximity to another when one of the most violent attacks found him alone in the shower. There was simply nothing to go on.

After that fateful meeting with Death, Harry did his utmost best to limit the number of people who knew about his new condition. Madam Pomfey and the St Mungo’s healers knew about the mark but they didn’t know where it came from or what it meant. He had asked them to let the matter lie and the two healers had eagerly agreed to grant the Man-Who-Conquered a favour. Madam Pomfey had given him an indecipherable look and didn’t bring it up again.

Ginny had to be told when the mark started burning during a leisurely snogging section. Before Harry even knew it, Hermione had been told and was dragging Ron along to the library for research. At least he had managed to contain it before everyone in the semi-destroyed castle had been made aware of his new condition. With things as they were, his new scar would have made front page news within the hour.

Other than The Scar, Harry’s life finally seemed to be falling into place. He and Ron were accepted into Auror training without even needing to sit their NEWTS, Hermione insisted on going back to school to complete her education and the Weasley family was focusing on planning George’s wedding to Angelina rather than mourning Fred’s death. Even the Malfoys had been pardoned of their crimes and released back into society on probation.

January of 1999 saw Harry renovating Grimmauld Place, spending time at Andromeda’s with his godson, training his body to exhaustion with the other trainee Aurors and RSVP’ing to two wedding invitations and five Ministry functions.  He was there to receive his Order of Merlin First Class with Ron and Hermione, to see Kingsley be sworn into office as the new Minister of Magic, to congratulate George and Angelina on their marriage (and then to do the same with much less sincerity for Draco and Astoria), to attend the Ministry Spring Ball and the War Orphans Relief Benefit, and to shake hands with the Veela nation’s liaison at a Magical Creature Co-operation Conference.

Luna, Ginny and Hermione graduated from Hogwarts in July. Luna departed for an extended research trip with her father, Ginny earned herself a reserve position with the Holyhead Harpies and Hermione found employment within the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. This allowed for Harry to spend more time exploring the chemistry between himself and his sweetheart and having his ear talked off by a genius but much stressed witch in the midst of planning her wedding to one Ronald Weasley.

The Weasley family did its best to make Harry feel like part of the family and Mrs Weasley seemed to delight in putting him on the spot about his relationship with her darling daughter. When even Percy saw fit to get himself engaged, Mrs Weasley’s subtle hints about Harry and Ginny’s upcoming nuptials suddenly turned to busy planning and a tangible reality.

In the meantime, Harry’s scar ceased to be as big of a physical nuisance, only to now consume Harry’s every thought. Some knowledge about it was niggling at the back of his head and he just could not let it go. He spent every spare moment in the Ministry and Black libraries, trying to find what it was that was escaping him. He became withdrawn from those around him, focussing wholly on his career and the leftover mysteries of the War.

Harry completed his Auror training in November 1999 and was a week into the job when he was made the offer. The Department of Mysteries had taken notice of his efforts in researching the Veil, the Death Eater marks and some of the more obscure battle spells the victims of which still resided in St Mungo’s. They offered him a position as an Unspeakable which he accepted after a bad argument with Ginny that transpired a month later.

He knew it was a mistake to accept and that doing so would ruin the carefully planned normalcy he was striving forwards but he simply could not resist the pull of investigating the unknown. Unspeakables did not have the luxury of going up to their families and saying “I’m working at the Department of Mysteries”. On paper, Harry was transferred to the Investigation Department which allowed him to excuse long absences as undercover assignments or research trips. He was also assigned a Shield.

A Shield was a Ministry of Magic employee who helped in maintaining the secret of an Unspeakable’s identity. Other than the Head of the Department of Mysteries – a severe woman who reminded Harry of McGonagall and demanded that she be addressed as 'sir' – his Shield would be the only one who knew what he truly did for a living. So imagine Harry’s surprise when he was told that the one responsible for covering his tracks and redirecting his family’s and the press’ attention was none other than Draco Malfoy.

He had to lean of his schoolyard enemy for support and what he found the hardest to stomach was how easy the task became after a scant two months. Either married life agreed with the Malfoy heir or surviving the War had caused him to mature. He was professional when required, efficient without being asked, funny when relaxed, and supportive when the need arose for him to forgo sarcasm and don tact. Harry liked the ferret and that surprised him, maybe even more than the unexpected turn other aspects of his life were taking.

Harry didn’t have time to work on social niceties. His research was captivating, exhausting and often time sensitive, with one or a thousand lives hanging in the balance. He had no time for press interviews or Ministry Balls or dinner benefits. He had no time for Hermione’s rants on the failings of her Department or Ron’s sulking for being assigned a partner nothing like Harry. He had no time for _Ginny_ and her picket fence dreams.

The only one he made sure to make time for was Teddy and that was only because he found himself completely in love with the young metamorphmagus and his antics. When he confided in Draco about his inability to make time for social engagements, the Malfoy heir looked at him from above that perfectly sculptured nose and called him an introverted hermit and unsociable peasant.

By the time May 2000 came about and baby Weasleys started popping up all over the place, Harry had removed himself so far from civilisation he was surprised to have been notified of the births. Fleur gave birth to a beautiful baby girl on the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts and Draco saw fit to pull him from the bowels of the Ministry so that he be present for the birth. Angelina gave birth two weeks later to a healthy baby boy they named Fred in honour of his uncle. In passing Harry wondered if this would become some sort of competition among the Weasley boys as to who would have the most kids.

Ginny broke up with him in early June and proceeded to date a member of the Appleby Arrows. Harry could not bring himself to be too broken up about it since he was dealing with a very obscure curse at the time. In the face of an entire muggle village cursed to revert to cannibalism, relationship trouble took a backseat. When the issue was resolved and the Obliviators had been sent out to deal with the survivors Harry was left with a pile of Howlers and a rift a mile wide between him and the Weasley family. Hermione still talked to him, but as her feminist views had prevented her from taking her husband’s surname, she was technically only a half Weasley.

After two months spent researching and not even taking the time to travel back home to rest, Harry had to admit that he was falling into depression. He understood that he needed to make an effort if he was to retain ties to people, but couldn’t they see that there were bigger things to worry about?

In the end it was Draco who pulled him out of his misery. He dragged him to Grimmauld place, threw him in the shower and after making him reasonably presentable, dragged him to the nearest bar and got him piss drunk. Harry wasn’t sure how helpful he found the intervention but he was sure he was thankful for it sometime after he stopped making friends with the toilet bowl.

Draco about had an aneurism when he found Harry back in his office the following morning but the Man-Who-Conquered managed to convince him that he was not actually working. That or Draco got tired of screaming at him after the first three hours, he wasn’t sure which. The truth was though that he was _not_ actually working. He was rather piecing together some of his more harmless research as a peace offering to someone he knew might be open to accepting it as such.

It only took him till noon to get all the research in order and when he waltzed past Draco’s office to announce he’d be taking his lunch at Diagon Alley he had the pleasure of seeing the visage of a bewildered Malfoy. With a skip in his step and a folder of papers in his hands he caught the Floo to the Leaky Cauldron and didn’t even allow his clumsy landing to impact his good mood. He made a beeline to Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes and presented a bewildered (HA! That is two in one hour!) George Weasley with his precious folder.

When a little less than a year later the Weasley family showed up at St Mungo’s Delivery Ward for the birth of Angelina’s second baby, they were more than a little surprised to find Harry already there, patiently listening to George’s long-winded rant about stubborn wives. When George was finally allowed in the delivery room, that surprise turned to aggravation as Harry was dragged inside to be the first to see the newborn Septimus Weasley. Harry was too delighted about the new baby to notice.

After Septimus’ birth, Mrs Weasley and Ginny maintained an air of cold avoidance whenever Harry was around, but the rest of the Weasley family made an effort to include him back in the fold. Mr Weasley invited him to lunch on his breaks, Ron and Hermione invited him to monthly dinners much like old times and didn’t get offended when he never shared his own work anecdotes as long as he listened to theirs, and even Fleur arranged for him to bring Teddy over to Victoire’s play dates.

When October 2000 rolled around it found an irate Draco slamming a pristine white envelope on Harry’s desk and demanding that he take down his owl redirecting wards or he won’t be responsible for his actions. Long familiar to the nature of his relationship with the younger Malfoy, Harry merely grinned and opened the invitation to Neville and Luna’s wedding. Well, now _that_ wasn’t something he had seen coming.

He had had little contact with the two. Luna had been overseas, at times sending him cryptic letters that he could swear were written in code and contained information that helped advance his studies. That or he was going crazy and making stuff up out of Luna’s gibberish. Either way, it was working so he always made an effort to reply to her letters with short but sincere messages. Neville had been completing his Herbology apprenticeship and was more often than not more entangled in his research than Harry. Then again, he did remember something in Luna’s latest letter about finding a long-bottomed griffhawk a few months back. That girl had a weird sense of humour.

It turned out that Harry was right about the child bearing thing turning into a competition. Dominique Weasley was born to Bill and Fleur in January 2003, followed by Yavanna and Vána Longbottom who were born in April of that same year. (Vána and Yavanna sounded better in Harry’s head, but apparently Yavanna had been born first so her name had to come first according to Luna.) Roxanne Weasley was born to George and Angelina in August 2004 leading to Angelina having a very long talk with her husband about contraceptive charms and the joys of sleeping on one’s couch.

In the meantime, Harry finally found the balance between his job and social life, but found himself incapable of seeking a relationship. His role as Master of Death was coming back to haunt him as he was now twenty-four years of age and barely looked eighteen. Sir was made privy of his condition (yes, Harry called his Head of Department that even in his head) and the Department of Mysteries added the legend of the Deathly Hollows to their list of mysteries to be investigated. As only the cloak still remained in existence Harry doubted that whoever picked up that mystery would have much luck in solving it.

Hermione got fed up with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures (Harry had gotten fed up of having to pronounce its full name in conversation) so she transferred over to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. She was working for the Wizengamot Administration Services, but the Wizengamot elections were coming up soon and she had her eye on a seat on the Council.

Ron was quickly rising up the ranks in the Auror Department and seemed to understand that he may not have had the same opportunities he has now had Harry remained in the Department so he had grudgingly forgiven his friend for the perceived abandonment. He also recognised Harry’s need to keep a low profile due to his unchanging appearance so he stopped pressing for Harry to join the Ministry’s various Balls to which the three war heroes had standing invitations.

George and Angelina had been made privy to Harry’s secret during Angelina’s third pregnancy when she broke down and cried her eyes out because she was fat, old and ugly while Harry was not. Harry and George had enlisted Fred and Septimus to aid them in a prank so as to cheer her up which resulted in Harry being banned from their house for the next three months. In his opinion it was totally worth it.

Draco was made aware of the Master of Death thing by the Department of Mysteries as part of his duties as a Shield. He had sulked for a week when he realised that he would age while Harry would not. Then he had proceeded to fall into a deep-seated depression that required Harry to crawl to his office and beg for forgiveness only for his apology to be met by Draco’s bewildered face which had become much more commonplace over the years.

It turns out he could care less about Harry’s immortality, as his mother and Astoria had banded together in a demand for grandchildren and children respectively. When Harry asked why that was such a bad thing, Draco gifted him with a look reminiscent of the ones Death had regarded him with all those years past and proceeded to inform him, in graphic detail, why arranged marriages sucked before throwing him out of his office so that he could file (read: sulk) in peace.

Eventually Narcissa and Astoria wore down on Draco’s misgivings about having a child because in January 2006 Harry was being named godfather to one Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy. It seems that Ron had managed to work wonders with Hermione as well because it was hardly seven months later that the Weasley family was welcoming its newest member, Rose Weasley.

Louis Weasley was born to Bill and Fleur in February 2007, leading Harry to wonder at what drove the Weasley males. Bill, George and Ron seemed to only be able to see family while Percy could care less about children and was wholly focussed on his career. On the other hand, Charlie had crashed all of Molly’s dreams by announcing years past that he was as bent as they come and that no children would come from him. From what Harry knew the dragon handler had had two steady boyfriends in the past ten years and a string of jilted lovers.

As for Ginny, she seemed to have nothing but a string of failed relationships after Harry and only seemed to be settling down now with a nice columnist working for the Department of Magical Games and Sports. Harry was happy for her and hated that he had impacted her in such a big way. He loved her, but he could now see that nothing would have come from that love. She was a sister to him and the pressure he had put on himself to be normal was what drove him to fall for the nice, safe option found in his best friend’s sister. Maybe if the whole immortal thing hadn’t been an issue they would have worked out. Who knew?

The end of June of 2007 found Harry sniggering in the Ministry corridors every time he passed by Draco. Astoria had recently announced to the papers that she was three months pregnant with her second child and Harry could not help but remember Draco’s face when he had ran into Harry’s office close to tears when he found out the news (Harry had had a talk with Astoria about that, letting your husband find out about your pregnancy from the papers was just cold).

After a long night of drinks, Harry had stopped laughing at Draco when the Malfoy had tearfully admitted that he had been dosed with a love potion when seeking Astoria’s bed. It was sad to envision anyone in the position his friend found himself in. At least Scorpius was a point of sunshine in his life.

Caelum Coeus Malfoy was born on a cold December morning. Harry truly felt for the little boy. Not only was he going to get hell for his name, but the amount of reporters that Astoria had allowed to be present outside the delivery room before Draco had arrived had been simply staggering. Harry maintained that there was something wrong with purebloods (Draco was the exception) because no decent parent would hold up their newborn for photographs so as to claim two minutes of fame on the Daily Prophet’s front page. It was cruel (an adjective he was coming to associate more and more with Astoria).

After Caelum’s birth nothing of note happened. Life fell into routine, with the only difference being that Harry’s once secret was now pretty much public knowledge. Everyone could see that the Saviour of the Wizarding World wasn’t aging, but other than Harry’s immediate circle of friends and family, no one knew the truth as to why. The Daily Prophet speculated that it was the effect of a spell he had been hit with during the War and Harry had to congratulate them on coming up with something plausible. He shuddered to think what Rita’s theories were on the matter.

The only marked change came in September of 2009 when Teddy Lupin was escorted to Platform 9 ¾ for the first time by his godfather, grandmother and a swarm of redheads. Those Christmas holidays were challenging for Harry as his godson returned from school with a horde of questions. Why hadn’t he been allowed to practice magic outside of school like some of his classmates? Why weren’t first years allowed to join a Quidditch team? Uncle Harry had been allowed. Why did Headmistress McGonagall prowl the castle as a cat at night? Shouldn’t she be relieved from her post as Headmistress if she had gone senile? Why were two seventh years hiding in an alcove past curfew and making icky noises? Where did children come from? Would Uncle Harry have children? Would Uncle Harry having children mean that he wouldn’t love Teddy anymore? Teddy could make himself look like Uncle Harry if that made him not want other children. How would Uncle Harry have children if he didn’t make icky noises in dark places? Should Teddy make icky noises?

Harry was flustered, annoyed, ran haggard, but mostly mortified at the questions brought forth by the adorable eleven-year-old. Children these days! He was pretty sure he had been at least fourteen before he even looked at another human that way, much less contemplated sex! Okay, Teddy didn’t technically _know_ he was asking about sex and Harry was far from the best example about having a normal childhood, but still! Andromeda was welcome to stop laughing at him any moment now. He was definitely paying McGonagall a visit once term started. Obviously the teachers were getting slack in their duties.

Harry’s talk with McGonagall led to her behaving remarkably alike to Andromeda during the holidays. Even Dumbledore’s portrait had that laughing light in his eyes that had made Harry wonder if his old Headmaster had been all there. Maybe Teddy was right and McGonagall _was_ going senile.

Fred and Victoire followed their honorary cousin to Hogwarts in 2011, with Septimus doing the same in 2012. With more kids prowling the halls of Hogwarts Harry was faced with even more questions. The most prominent seemed to be why he wasn’t dating. He couldn’t help but wonder what stories all the children currently at Hogwarts had grown up with to be so concerned about their Saviour’s dating life.

To appease them (Teddy and Victoire, not the random children), Harry tried his hand at dating once more. It was suffice to say that the experiment ended with disastrous consequences. Just who was a thirty-two year old who looked eighteen supposed to date? Not to mention that his work with the Unspeakables made discussion about his work a mine field and his partners boring in comparison with what he saw and did every day. Fleur had even set him up with a Veela cousin who went full Veela on him (and by that he means hissing, clawing and fire throwing were involved rather than sexy times) when she saw Death’s scar.

September 2014 saw Vána and Yavanna entering Hogwarts. Professor Longbottom was proud of his twin beauties despite everyone else being slightly freaked by how much they looked and acted like their mother only energy times infinity. In the meantime, Luna had said something weirdly mysterious before abandoning the Quibbler and all her outstanding research to enter Healer training. Harry would swear up and down his curious friend was a seer, which is why he couldn’t help but shiver in trepidation whenever she looked at him with that lost, sad look she had taken to sport as of late.

On October 31st Harry was visiting his parents’ graves when the news shook the Wizarding World so it wasn’t until later when he was told by an ecstatic Hermione and apprehensive Ron. When he heard, Luna’s mournful eyes came to haunt him and his blood froze. The muggles had discovered them. No amount of Obliviating was going to correct this so it was official, the muggles knew about the Wizarding World.


	3. How it all Ended (or Began)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm uploading a compilation of research and explanatory notes that serve as a companion to this fic as part of the series. Just be warned that they come with spoilers for the main story. Check it out if you are interested and leave me any questions you'd like me to address in the comments.
> 
> Edit: 06/10/2014  
> \- Corrected a few grammatical errors and timeline discrepancies

After the first panic about the Wizarding World’s discovery, the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes was ripped apart by the press and the public for failing at their duties. No one seemed to care that a group of something like seventy muggleborns had banned together with the very purpose of revealing the magical world to the muggles in a way the Department had never been trained to deal with.

Then the Muggle Liaison Office stepped forward with Hermione taking the lead. Harry was only mildly impressed by the ease Hermione jumped between Ministerial Departments. The girl had been the smartest witch of their generation, she could do anything she put her mind to. Currently, she had gotten it in her head to be the one to successfully negotiate and settle the treaty between the magical and muggle worlds.

At the beginning, the treaty was working. There was an open sharing of knowledge from both sides and the muggle world seemed to treat magic in either wonder or indifference. A few of the most extreme religious groups called for the magical to be put down, but everyone ignored them the same way they ignored elitist pureblood ideals after the Second Wizarding War.

Then the muggle authorities demanded to be allowed custody of the group of muggleborns that had instigated the reveal. After all, their introduction of the magical had included unleashing violent magical creatures onto muggle streets during the Halloween celebrations, something that resulted in massive casualties. There was some haggling, but the muggleborns were handed over to the muggle authorities as a show of good faith. They were never heard from again and when Harry thought about it, that was the first sign.

The second was when magical creatures started being imprisoned by the muggle governments. They started small, with non-humanoids that could pass as animals. They were placed in zoos or ‘tamed’ and allowed to be introduced as safe pets for muggles. The centaurs made ominous predictions and retreated into hiding, but no one else made a fuss within the magical community.

It was June 2015 when everything changed. George and Angelina had travelled to China to attend the opening ceremony of the first Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes stores for the muggle branch. There was an attack during the ceremony and everyone with magic was eliminated with extreme prejudice. Anyone who sympathised with the Wizarding freaks and stood in the way was put down alongside them.

The British Ministry of Magic demanded that the Chinese government take action against the attackers only to find out that China had been placed on lock down and everything magical within its borders was free for all. No other muggle government protested China’s actions and some even followed suit. Only some muggle equal rights activists tried to raise awareness, but they were swiftly shut down. Each witch of wizard was the equivalent of a nuclear bomb. They should not be allowed to walk free.

Harry didn’t care about the political response to the attack. All that he cared about was that his scar had caused him to collapse at the exact moment George and Angelina had been shot down. He had seen Death take their souls and had been unable to stop him. No amount of ordering or begging would change Death’s mind and Harry knew it was all his fault. If he hadn’t struck that deal things would have been different.

The entire Weasley family was distraught and Hermione was inconsolable. Harry himself was falling apart when a Ministry official knocked on his door and dragged him to Gringotts for the reading of George and Angelina’s wills. They had both named him, or ‘the immortal idiot of our group’ as they referred to him, as guardian of their children. Their reasoning was that Fred, Septimus and Roxanne had lost their parents so it wouldn’t do for them to lose anyone else. As Harry was the only one incapable of dying, it was only logical that the children go to him (sorry Molly!).

Out of necessity, Harry put the new mystery of the scar at the back of his mind together with all the self-hatred and despair, and hired a small army of house elves to get the old Potter Manor into rights. When the Manor was habitable, he moved the three children, together with Teddy who had been living with him since Andromeda’s passing a year prior, out of Grimmauld place and into their new home. He allowed Fred and Septimus to remain at home finish their year at Hogwarts through the help of a tutor.

Fred had expressed an interest in taking over his father’s business after graduation, so rather than selling it, Harry hired an army of managers and staff to take care of Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes until Fred was ready to make a decision about what he wanted to happen to it. By the end of it all he was exhausted and he finally relented to his Head of Department’s insistence that he take a holiday. He spend that summer with Teddy and his new charges, as well as the rest of the Weasleys and their extended family.

When September rolled around, Teddy, Fred, Victoire and Septimus were joined by Roxanne in boarding the Hogwarts Express. Harry was slightly melancholy in seeing all his children go, but glad to know that they would be kept safe and distracted from the brewing war at Hogwarts.

Harry threw himself back into his research with vigour. This time, he focused on spell creation and came up with some of the most powerful protective and defending spells crafted to date. His scar was also something that was concerning him once more as it had started throbbing much like it had when it was first branded onto his skin. That scar was a mystery he doubted he would ever solve but he tried all the same.

The next tragedy struck in February. Astoria had taken Caelum with her for a shopping trip in muggle London. She hadn’t necessarily wanted to be there, but Draco had warned her against going into the muggle world and she had been determined to do it so as to piss him off. He was presumptuous, rude, neglectful and an all-around asshole, so she could care less what he ordered her to do. She was his wife, not his house elf.

When the attack struck, Harry had been grabbing lunch with Draco and collapsed from the pain in his chest. When he came to, he had seized Draco and force-apparated the both of them through the Ministry’s wards. Something tugged at him for a specific location and the tug was stronger when he was touching Draco so he assumed the two were related.

They found a bloodied Caelum huddling in a dirty alley next to his mother’s mangled corpse. His eyes were huge and glassy and he passed out at the sight of the two of them. When Harry apparated him straight to the St Mungo’s emergency ward he was told that he suffered from internal bleeding, severe bruising on his back and side and a blow to the head. It was all easily fixed, but they could not guarantee that he would wake up with control of his magic as he had suffered severe trauma before his magic maturity that came at age eleven.

When the Aurors investigated the attack, they found what Harry and Draco had missed. There were humanoid shadows imprinted on the walls around Astoria’s corpse. Five shadows and remnants of accidental magic. Caelum had vaporised his mother’s attackers.

Draco tearfully confided in him that the investigation on the body had revealed that Astoria had been violently beaten before she was repeatedly violated and stabbed. Harry had never seen the Malfoy heir in tears before and when he tried to comfort him, Draco had ruefully laughed and confessed that if Caelum had not been there to have seen the entire thing he would have been smirking in triumph instead.

It was months before Caelum was released from hospital but at least he seemed to have escaped with no magical or physical scars. His mind, however, was a different matter altogether. He suffered from vicious nightmares and had yet to allow anyone near him without lashing out with his magic. The first time Draco had tried to hug him after the attack Harry could only thank Merlin that they had been in hospital otherwise his friend might not have made it.

Draco had engaged the services of the best Mind Healer money could buy and scheduled daily sections for his son. Caelum was slowly but surely getting better and the Healer was confident he would make a full recovery. So far he had progressed to allowing immediate family (and Harry) to approach him without lashing out and everyone regarded that as a win.

Scorpius had been relatively easier to handle. He hadn’t seen the attack and was used to not seeing his mother for days on end. He took the news of her death stoically and made his father proud. Harry caught him crying quietly to himself that night and did his best to comfort him. In the end, Caelum’s condition hit Scorpius much harder than his mother’s death. He spent every waking moment with his younger brother and did his best to help him heal. Harry admired his patience and determination while Draco could not help but shower his sons with pride and love.

Teddy graduated from Hogwarts in July and immediately entered Auror training. Harry had the suspicion that his godson had harboured different dreams for a career, but with the steeping war he could hardly fault him for wanting to be in possession of the skill to protect himself and others. Having undergone the training himself, Harry could at least aid him and support him.  

The year passed in relative quiet. Most governments weren’t announcing anything official and all sides seemed to be keeping a low profile. Random attacks were still common, but they were unrelated and seemingly unsanctioned.

When a reluctant Scorpius allowed a supportive Rosie to drag him onto the Hogwarts Express for the first time in September 2017 Caelum was well on his way to making a full recovery. He could now interact normally with most people, but he still viewed strangers with a big amount of distrust that hid a deep-rooted fear. No matter what happened, he was going to carry scars from the attack for his entire life.

That year the Weasley family planned for a quiet, family holiday. The Burrow was swarming with people and the atmosphere was warm and inviting. No one expected Harry to scream in pain and collapse on Christmas Eve. It was an hour after he had lost consciousness that the fireplace flared green with the news. Bill and Fleur were visiting Fleur’s family in France when the magical community there was bombed. There were no survivors. Bill, Fleur, Louis, Dominique, Apolline, Gabrielle… They were all gone. The only one who had escaped the tragedy was Victoire who had refused to join the rest of her family when she had received an invitation to a high society Yule Ball from a friend.

Victoire was devastated, the Weasley family lost and desperate, and Harry in a coma. St Mungo’s had no idea what was wrong with him, and when Draco arranged for Unspeakables to come to examine him all they could find was that his magic was depleted and it seemed that his scar was the cause. When Harry woke up a month later, he felt normal and all signs of his ordeal were gone so there was nothing left for him to study. He raged, grieved and did his best to help his surviving friends and family pick up the pieces.

By the beginning of 2018, more than half of the world’s muggle and wizarding governments were officially at war. Britain remained one of the last refuges for the magical, purely due to its already high population of witches and wizards.

That year Harry finally managed to corner Luna and question her thoroughly. It turns out that she was _not_ a seer, surprisingly, but _did_ get premonitions in the form of feelings of what was about to happen. As such, she could not tell exactly _what_ would happen, but she did know how what would happen was going to affect her emotionally. Not an incredibly useful ability, but an interesting one all the same. At least it explained why the girl always seemed so disconnected with her surroundings. Anyone who tried to interact with the world around them while experiencing future, rather than present, emotions was bound to have a difficult time of it.

The year saw Fred graduating from the Wizarding School only to immediately earn himself a potions apprenticeship. He had wanted to follow in his father’s footsteps as an inventor, but knowing how to brew powerful potions was going to come handy at the times during which they lived. If, by some miracle, the war was resolved, he could always use his skills in potion brewing to invent new products. Victoire, who graduated beside him, entered Healer training in an attempt to help where she felt she could make the most difference.

That summer everyone felt the timer count down. They were experiencing the calm before the storm and everyone was preparing like crazy for an attack. Old wards were renewed, new ones erected, Aurors retrained and more drafted for emergency situations, restrictions on underage magic were loosened, potion cabinets restocked… War was coming.

In September, Draco reluctantly allowed his youngest to board the train to Hogwarts for the first time, knowing the castle defences had been brought up and the class curriculum adapted to help arm the children for the dangerous times ahead. As the children travelled towards Hogwarts, magical creatures made their own preparations. Merpeople migrated to deeper, darker waters, the Veela nation locked its borders, trolls and giants took to the mountains and even the goblins closed down their banks and retreated far below the ground.

Harry once again buried himself in research, this time focusing fully on developing new spells that would have the most devastating and swift effect against muggles. Time for hesitation was long past and unlike Hermione, he was way past hoping for a peaceful resolution to be found.

It turned out that Harry was right. Negotiations between governments failed when it was discovered that the muggles were tracking down accidental magic and capturing muggleborns children so as to experiment on ways of draining and blocking magic. As of November 2018, Wizarding Britain was officially at war with its muggle equivalent.

Muggles released limiting devices and hunted down witches and wizards systematically. Wizarding communities that were hidden under too strong wards to penetrate were bombed when discovered and muggle numbers appeared too difficult to beat. Hogwarts and Hogsmeade had yet to be found, but everyone dreaded the day that they would be.

July wouldn’t come too soon and everyone breathed a tiny bit easier when the children left Hogwarts to re-join their families. Septimus who graduated that year went off to join his uncle at the Dragon Reserve where the dragon handlers were hard at work training their charges to be useful in the war effort.

By the end of 2019, things looked bleak. The Wizarding world simply did not have the necessary numbers and training to counter muggle attacks. They couldn’t predict them and they often found themselves unable to defend against them. The Ministry was getting desperate, so they pulled their last trick, they ordered their Saviour to lead the war effort.

Harry was very much unwilling. He did not want to be put on the spotlight once more and he did not believe that his immortal status would inspire confidence in his desire to protect life. Nevertheless, he stepped up to the plate and did his best to protect his family, his friends and his people. He organised the different fractions, trained everyone who could wield a wand in the most effective ways to counter the attacks and overall, did his best to minimise casualties.

Harry’s efforts were enough for the Wizarding world to reclaim some ground for the next three years. Hogwarts became a refuge for all magical children despite of age or race, and parents were now more concerned about the children coming home for holidays than they were about them staying at the castle for the term.

Vána and Yavanna graduated in 2021 and followed their mother into Healer training. Roxanne graduated a year later and went on to join the Aurors. Most children now left school fully capable of defending themselves against attacks and Harry could not feel remorse for forcing them to complete compulsory Auror training during the entirety of their seventh year.

A surprise came in the form of Fred and Yavanna insisting that they marry in the midst of all the mayhem. Fred proposed during an attack on St Mungo’s and the marriage was held in September of 2022. It was a quick, no nonsense ceremony with only close friends and family in attendance. Harry did not know if he was supposed to congratulate them or declare their minds medically unsound.

Scorpius and Rosie graduated in 2024. Scorpius entered the Auror program like half his year mates and Rosie went on to spell research. Harry did his best to support them both, but leading the war effort was taking a toll on him. The wizarding forces were pushed further and further back and it was uncertain for how much longer they could hold out. No one wanted to admit it, but it was slowly starting to become obvious that they were not going to win this war.

Roxanne married her Auror squad leader, who turned out to be Teddy, in December. Her older brothers gave her hell for marrying someone who had been very much a brother to all three of them growing up, but in the middle of war, no one cared much for propriety.

The last of the magical creatures who had sided with the wizards in the war finally abandoned the war effort and went into hiding in 2025. Vampires fell into deep sleep in some of the world’s most inaccessible locations, werewolves disappeared deep into magical forests and dwarves closed their mines to retreat deeper into their mountains. The Wizarding world was fighting the war alone.

People could feel the end approaching, but Harry was happy to see that, at least amongst his family, everyone was facing the end with a weird sense of resigned amusement. Septimus and Vána married because they could and happened to love each other, Scorpius and Rosie did the same. Caelum graduated and followed his adopted family in the Dragon Reserve, Mrs Weasley knit blankets for the injured, and Mr Weasley taught classes on how to misuse muggle artefacts.

Ginny’s death while she was leading an aerial attack over a muggle detainment facility was met with quiet sorrow. Death was commonplace nowadays and no matter how much people wanted the time to properly mourn their dead, none was given.

Draco was killed later on in the same year, while on an infiltration mission with the Investigation Department. He entrusted the care of both his sons in Harry. It didn’t matter that they were adults leading their own lives, both Draco and Harry knew that the latter’s protection and support would always be appreciated if not necessarily needed.

The Romanian Dragon Reserve was attacked in early 2026, costing Charlie, Septimus and Vána their lives. Some of the dragons themselves had managed to escape the attack, but none of the staff was as lucky. Out of the thousands inhabiting the reserve, only the small team on patrol rotation had survived, with Caelum counting himself amongst them.

Already bedridden from the pain he had been suffering in his scar for the past few years, Harry was thrown back into a coma after the attack on the Reserve. It was clear that the most intense attacks coincided with the death of the people closest to him, however, other than the pain he was dealt, nothing else happened. He couldn’t understand the nature of his gift and he hated it. The only thing he could come up with was that the pain was there to punish him for his failure to save everyone, allowing him to continue his duties with less self-hatred than usual. It still sucked.

The moment Harry woke from his coma, he threw himself into the war effort with vigour. He knew that there was little he could actually do, but if the wizarding world went down, then they were going to take as many muggles with them as possible. He had barely been up for three days when he was rendered useless once more.

He had been visiting Durmstrang with Teddy and Roxanne in order to improve its wards when the muggles saw it fit to launch a nuclear warhead at the Institute. To say that Harry was pissed to wake up alone in a fortress that had only minutes ago swarmed with life would be an understatement. He was at the centre of a nuclear blast and yet he was still alive! What would it take to kill him? The fact that the muggles had just launched a _nuclear weapon_ at a _school_ did not register until a few moments later.

In a fit of rage, he apparated to the closest muggle capital and released all his magic in a fluorescent green wave.  The muggles wanted to see death? He would show them death! The spell acted like a wide range Avada Kedavra and fuelled by Harry’s more than average magic reserves, it was powerful enough to cover the entire muggle capital.

After his brief loss of control, Harry could only remember waking up at a magical hospital and being told that he had been recovered by Aurors from Stockholm where he had been thought to have died from magical exhaustion. Harry had laughed mirthlessly at the statement. He wished!

Thinking back he wondered how he had even been able to carry out the attack. Teddy and Roxanne had just died. If his scar had followed the pattern, he should not have woken till at least a month later. Did it make a difference that he had technically also died in the attack? This was _so_ frustrating!

A day later, found Harry waking up alone where he had only moments before been surrounded by people mourning the death of their children and families at the Durmstrang attack. Muggles were ruthless and heartless. They had attacked a funeral service with weapons of mass destruction, causing the death of thousands. Less than three minutes later Oslo had been wiped clean of life and Harry was left alone to mourn the deaths of Mr and Mrs Weasley, Percy, Fred and Yavanna.

December 2026 saw Diagon Alley being attacked and Scorpius, Rosie and Victoire losing their lives. At the first sign of pain, Harry had apparated towards the faint tug he could feel and had made it in time to save Caelum. From the glares the boy was sending him and the way he had reacted to Victoire’s death Harry knew that he was not going to receive any thanks for the rescue. Being the last of his family and with Victoire dead, Caelum _prayed_ for death.

Hermione was killed in May 2027 while assisting with the Hogsmeade evacuation effort. Ron was distraught and Harry could not tell if it was because of her death or due to the fact that he was the last of his family still standing. Either way, Harry felt for his friend. He had resigned himself to outliving all his friends, Ron never had to prepare himself for the eventuality.

Both Caelum and Ron did not have long to wait before they met their end, but the way they did made Harry wish he had fulfilled their desire himself. It was June 22 when they got the news of Caelum’s capture and June 27 when they found him, killed during the rescue attempt after days of torture. Ron was injured by an experimental weapon when he led the unsuccessful rescue and died painfully in hospital two days later.

Harry had long become desensitised to his scar’s painful resonance, but the accompanying tug still caused him dread. The last time he felt it, he apparated to the given location knowing what awaited him, yet still surprised by what he found. Neville’s corpse lay mangled around that of his wife in the middle of a destroyed hospital. They were the last of his friends to fall and yet they left him with the greatest riddle, because when Harry approached them, Luna was still alive enough to rasp one final sentence: “We won!”

Over the next three years, the muggles made sure to wipe all sign of magical existence from the world. Harry could still feel the last vestiges of magical creatures still hiding away, but they were too few and far in between to give him any hope. While victorious, the muggles were quickly realising that the war had come at too great a cost. Everything was destroyed, too many lives were lost and the Green-Eyed Man would just. Not. _Die!_

For those three years, Harry walked with Death. He had no will or purpose and all he cared about was seeing his race avenged. He soon found that said avenging required very little from him. As time passed and the number of magical beings grew smaller, a green shroud of magic grew around him. It was the same vibrant green as his eyes and it killed all that it came into contract with. So that is how Harry found himself walking and Death following in his wake.

By 2032, very little still remained in the world and Harry’s will had all but diminished. The shroud around him had grown past the point he was aware of it and had lost its green hue. Death’s spectre was no longer visible to him, and he no longer felt life anywhere around him. It was in the middle of this empty and broken world that Harry lay down and didn’t get back up, the Draught of Living Death racing through his veins and shutting down his body. He found it appropriate that one of the first things Snape had ridiculed him for at Hogwarts and the one that had so long ago won him a bottle of Felix Felicis would be the one to now help him end it all.

The moment Harry fell into the sleep of the living dead, the energy shroud that had been his constant companion the past three years shuddered and stood perfectly still before lashing out. Seemingly without effort, it crumbled the Earth and everything on or around it, until all that remained in place of the universe was the golden light of the shroud surrounding the tiny figure asleep in its midst.

And so it was that when the end came, all that remained was magic itself and one Harry James Potter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you are looking for more Harry Potter/Lord of the Rings crossovers, take a look at the fics that inspired and motivated this one:
> 
> 1\. [Man in Fangorn ](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/8019225/1/) by Jaiden.Aye
> 
> 2\. [The Guardian of Life ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2675912) by MissYuki1990


	4. A Gift Explained and a World Rebuilt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lord of the Rings, finally! :P I ask all the hardcore Tolkien fans out there to please let me know in the comments if I screwed up the mythology anywhere and I promise to let you know, in turn, if it was done by accident or design.
> 
> As this chapter was quite rushed, I also beg you to please forgive any additional mistakes.

Harry did not know how long he had been asleep before he started becoming aware of his dreamscape. It could have been minutes, it could have been years. He couldn’t care less. All that he cared about was that Death was sitting in that very same lounge room (he couldn’t call it a _living_ room with Death at its centre), drinking tea just like he had all those years ago, and making Harry want to bawl his eyes out like an infant.

He might have been fifty-two years old, fought two wars, lost everyone he ever loved, denied the escape that was death and the comfort that was love, but even he was allowed to throw a tantrum in the face of losing the peace and quiet that came with sleep. This damn spectre was everywhere! Not only that, but he had been avoiding Harry like the plague for the past thirty years. Only now that he was finally trying to get some rest did the… Man? Being? Thing? …see it fit to disturb him once more. Not! Acceptable!

“Oh, so what? _Now_ you want to talk?!” exclaimed Harry angrily, sprawling rebelliously over one of the lavish couches.

“I find myself bored and out of work,” replied the spectre evenly. “So yes, I did find this an opportune time to drop by.”

Harry huffed and Death looked at him distastefully in face of the reaction. At least the spectre seemed to have developed a greater range of emotion in the past few years. It didn’t matter though, Harry was allowed to act immature in this situation.

“Fine!” he agreed. Might as well get it over with. “Talk.”

“Talk?” questioned the older… whatever.

“Yes talk,” prompted Harry and fought to keep his temper in check when Death continued to look at him uncomprehendingly. “You know! Talk! Explain why you are here! Gloat about your immense power and superior intellect! Say your piece and get out! … And stop looking so smug!”

“I know not of what you are referring,” Death replied with what was without a doubt a smug expression, “I am merely experiencing satisfaction at a gamble paying off.”

“That,” explained Harry, fighting to keep his temper in check, “would be what we humans refer to as feeling smug.”

“You would know, wouldn’t you?” observed the older man (he appeared as a man so Harry was calling him a man, damn it!), taking on an indulgent expression. “You are, after all, the last of your species. Of _any_ species for that matter.”

He was infuriating! Harry took deep breaths and quietly counted to ten. Nope! Not working.

“Explain,” he growled quietly. “Now!”

That was definitely a smirk Death was sporting. “As you wish.”

The man made a show of getting comfortable and taking a sip from the tea cup that appeared out of thin air. Harry was about to snap when Death finally looked at him indulgently and began with the explanation.

“Your gift turned out to be quite useful, but I can’t say it was surprising considering your history.” He paused there, only to sigh when it became apparent that Harry was not taking the bait. “The entire universe is shaped by magic. Magic is what creates the worlds in which you live in. It creates souls and allows them to interact in physical vessels that it shapes for them, some times even granting them access to some of its power. When beings die, it is my job to collect their souls and sort them. Souls capable of interacting with magic _have_ to return back to magic, others can be reborn into new vessels without joining the whole. Humans would call this process 'rebirth'.

“It is the experiences of the returning souls that feed magic, making it stronger and wiser, and it is the will of all the souls linked to it while they interact with the world that control it. Souls believe that they require a physical plane of existence in which to interact, so magic shapes worlds and bodies for their use. Beings believe that they will become extinct without a physical way of procreating, so it allows them a way to do so. Humans believe the Earth is flat, it makes it so. They believe that it is round and surrounded by countless other worlds, again magic will see it done.

“Even I was created by magic when it became obvious that souls incapable of interacting with magic while on the physical plane brought nothing worthwhile when returning. Their lives too short and their senses too few to be of worth, requiring them instead to go through many lifespans before their presence into the magical core made a difference.”

Harry was pretty sure Death was confusing him on purpose. “So you are saying that magic is sentient,” he attempted to clarify.

“In a way,” allowed the man, scrutinising him quietly. He must have come to a conclusion because he took up the explanation once more, this time actually attempting to make Harry understand. “Magic was but a seed at the beginning of time. It traveled an empty space where nothing changed and it learnt all that there was to learn about that space. Then it split itself in half and relearnt the same space only to realise that there being two parts of it in the space made a difference. So it split itself in four, then eight. It kept multiplying exponentially and started to learn.

“The original piece remained the same, but the rest started to form patterns, habits, even bonds. When magic became too stretched, it called all the pieces back to it and everything that had developed individually became part of a whole. Then magic repeated the process again and again, until the individual pieces started forming opinions, thoughts – personalities. They started demanding things and magic followed the pull to see what happens.

“Some parts of magic were directed into forming worlds as an attempt by the many pieces to decorate the empty space. They would watch over the worlds and fill them with pieces of themselves only to find out that those pieces would eventually weaken and return back to the main body of magic rather than their creators. Then the pieces would shape magic into physical bodies so that they could interact with their worlds.

“At that stage, when the pieces were recalled to the whole, all the worlds that had been created merged into one. When magic went to break back into pieces, they appeared in physical forms straight into the created world and continued to shape it. Like children, they would play, learning, until they were called back.

“Eventually, they shaped magic into creating me, a being in charge of capturing the energy of their weakened creations and returning it back into the physical realm. As time passed the different pieces started resisting the pull, so magic forcefully dragged them back and stopped splitting itself in parts. Rather, she created beings much like the pieces had done, knowing that they would return to it when weakened and allowing only a few access to its Core. That is how magical and non-magical beings came into existence.

“Magic grows in strength and experience, but it does not have a will of its own. It does not _want_ anything, it simply does. Only pieces split from it and magical creations can in time develop wills of their own.”

Still confusing and mostly irrelevant, if mildly interesting. “We were created by magic and eventually weaken much like any magical spell which is why we die. Because magic created us we live much longer than any spell so we develop wills of our own,” recapped Harry. “How is this relevant to my gift?”

Here Death smiled and Harry was not sure if he was going for a nice smile, but what came out made him want to run for the hills.

“Your gift is the mark that has appeared on your body,” was the smug (that was definitely smugness in his expression) reply. “It focuses magic. You are immortal in the sense that we have a deal that renders me incapable of reaping you – I might feel slightly remorseful about that, but we’ll get back to it later – which means that you remain separate from the Core. As the number of beings left in the world dwindles, the stronger your will’s pull becomes. Now that everyone is dead, magic is yours to wield and yours alone.”

“Why would you _do_ that?” demanded Harry, slightly unsure whether he wanted to burst into tears or jump up and beat the other to a pulp.

“Because I could feel the end coming. Magical beings wanted non-magical beings gone and vice versa. Magic was accommodating both your wishes, being pulled apart in separate directions. It was confused and self-destructing, wiping itself clean of all it had learned,” explained the spectre, becoming progressively angrier as he went on. “We were going to revert back to that single seed and all the millennia spent shaping this world and developing free will would have been destroyed.

“I was created by pieces of magic, not magic itself. Were all beings to die, I would have followed and I had no will of my own to change that outcome. I am Death, I will not allow your petty arguments and flights of fancy to see me gone forever. You cannot kill Death!”

There was a long silence after that outburst and Harry stayed silent less he inspire another tirade. He was pretty sure that neither of the two would be able to handle another outburst and he did not care to see what would happen should two immortals clash. Still, he was pretty sure he preferred the condescending and icy cool countenance Death had portrayed last time. He said he had no will, but Harry was pretty sure that was only in the face of magic. The strength of his will pulsed through the dreamscape, battling against Harry’s own unrelentingly and it _hurt_!

“What do you want from me?” demanded Harry at last.

“When you gave up and went to sleep, your will became dormant and stopped controlling magic. It went on as planned and destroyed the world. The two of us and the Core are all that remains of that world so I want you to rebuild it. Once that is done, I could care less if you spent all eternity sleeping your life away.”

“I cannot create souls,” protested Harry. There were a lot of things he wanted to protest about, but the expression on Death’s face made it seem like a bad idea to refuse the order or fight it too much.

“Technically you can, but you won’t have to,” replied Death. “Every time one of your loved ones died you directed magic towards preserving their souls.” At Harry’s uncomprehending look, he seemed exasperated. “Surely you felt the pain of your body adjusting to controlling the new influx of magic! At the beginning the mark must have been draining your own magic before connecting enough with the Core to channel its energy.”

Harry could remember the first few episodes and the healer’s explanation of magical exhaustion as the cause of his fainting spells. Still, not important right now. What was that about his loved ones being alive?

Death seemed to sense his questions and urgency so he went on with a sigh. “There are thousands of souls that I have been unable to return to magic because your will was that they remain in the world. Your closest friends and family even retain their individual memories, personalities and characteristics due to the effort you’ve exerted in keeping them from combining with the rest of the souls.”

“So what am I supposed to do?” Harry did not know how to feel about this or even what the new information meant for him or the others. Towards the end, he had come in terms with death as a natural process, to now find that he had influenced that process did not sit well with him.

“There used to be others like me,” explained Death. “They weren’t tethered to a human like I was so they perished with the passing of the world. You cannot recreate them, but you can assign their duties to any other long-lived being with a connection to magic. Your _loved_ ones,” he continued, slightly distasteful at having to use the word, “currently fit those criteria due to their state of existence. They will build the world for you. You just need to assign them their duties and link them to the Core through your connection to it.”

“They have free wills!” exclaimed Harry in outrage. “I cannot just order them around, decide their fates for them.”

Death observed him for a long moment before nodding. Suddenly the room was full of people. Ron, Hermione, Luna, Draco, Neville, George, Fred II _and_ I, Angelina, Mr and Mrs Weasley, everyone!

“Ask them,” ordered Death and Harry could only look around dumbfounded.

“Harry!” exclaimed Luna, throwing herself into his arms. “See? I told you we won!”

“Luna?” asked Harry, fighting to keep himself upright while supporting her weight from where he had stood to take in the new additions to the room in surprise. “Are you really here?”

The girl in his arms nodded and giggled, much to the amusement of her daughters and husband.

“Do you all know what is happening?” Harry found himself asking once more, only to be faced with varying reactions. Luna nodded happily, her family smiled indulgently, Hermione started spouting theories one after the other, many looked confused, Draco glared, Caelum inched towards Victoire… Wow! Too much!

Instead of allowing Harry to try to make sense of everything that was happening, Death stepped forwards, his mere presence demanding attention and respect. At once the room had quietened and he made his request.

“There is a choice you must make,” he announced. “Either help Harry in reshaping the world from scratch or let go of your link to him and join the rest of the souls waiting to be sorted before they are reincarnated into the world.”

Harry stared at him in incomprehension. Was the guy for real? You did not just spout statements like that and expect people to make a choice or even know what you are talking about. He was, however, proven wrong when all his friends seemed to be contemplating the statement with no need for further clarification. So being dead meant that they had encountered Death and his pompous ways before. For some reason that came as a surprise to Harry.

Time passed after that, but with no frame of reference Harry had no idea how much. He felt disassociated from the situation.  The people he had spent so much time with were being respectful and reasonable in face of Death’s request, giving the spectre’s request priority over Harry’s emotional and mental stability. He wasn’t whining over being forgotten. He was, however, disgruntled to see Death receiving respect from _anyone_ , much less the friends and family he had thought to be well beyond his reach.

By the end of the confusing meeting, an agreement had been reached. Harry only knew that fifteen of the people who had arrived in his dreamscape now had a connection to magic and the living world through Harry and that the rest were now truly beyond his reach. When the fifteen were gone as well, leaving him alone with Death once more, he could still feel their presence at the back of his mind – Neville, Luna and their two daughters; Ron, Hermione and Rosie; Fred II and his two siblings, Teddy and Victoire; Draco, Scorpius and Caelum.

“Your will has diminished,” observed Death after a long silence. “Even after seeing your loved ones, knowing they are out there, you have no desire to live.”

It was true. Harry was confused and tired. He didn’t know what was happening. It was like he was existing in a separate dimension from the rest of the world, moving at a different speed. He did not know what was real and what was not, or even what he wanted. He had wanted death, but now even that turned out to be different from what he expected. What did he want?

“Sleep, Harry,” advised Death. “Sleep and let your friends rebuild the world humanity destroyed. Sleep and preserve your strength because your reserves will be drained along with the Core’s in this endeavour.”

So Harry slept, alone and without purpose in the vastness of space, feeling a distant buzz of excitement and creation through his link to the others.

::

Even in sleep, Harry dreamt of the new world as it took shape. He was unsure if he visited the actual world or if it were his dreams giving it shape. He didn’t know what to make of it.

First, there was only water and then a single continent sprang from its depths. That was when Death released the first souls upon the darkened land. They were magical souls, familiar to Harry in the sense that they had been witches and wizards in the old world. The souls interacted with the world and Harry felt their suggestions being accommodated by the fifteen linked to the Core through him.

Then, it was decided that all souls would be allowed to return to the new world. Harry was unsure who made the decision, but he felt the notes of discord that buzzed in his head after it was made. When Death released one soul of each kind, the muggle soul was returned to him as soon as it reached the new world.

Death sent more muggles, only for their suggestions to not be accommodated. They wanted a valley, they got a mountain; they wanted a river, they got a desert. Harry was pretty sure he was not the cause of those happenings. They originated from the mind disagreeing with the rest at the back of his head. He understood that muggles were being discriminated against and that the voice responsible for it was growing strength, but did not know if he could or _should_ do anything about it.

As time passed, Harry became capable of differentiating the voices in his head. Yavanna was the one to ask for light and Fred was the one who build the Two Lamps that were to light up the new world. Rosie was the one to fill them with light and Scorpius was the one to extend his protection over them. Caelum was the one who destroyed them together with the new world.

 After that, Harry could still hear Caelum, but he could tell that he was far away from the rest, acting on his own. While the fourteen who remained started rebuilding with Teddy protecting them and their work, Caelum hid and waited. Harry could tell exactly what he was waiting for – the muggles to return. He had sworn not to allow their existence in the new world and waited to see if the others would wish for their reappearance.

This time, the Valar – as his friends had come to be known in the new world – drew four continents from the oceans. One for non-magical beings, one for light magical beings, one for dark magical beings and one for those who were no longer capable of being reaped by Death. Neville and Septimus grew two trees on the Undying Lands which were to house the light. There, they were protected from Caelum.

This time, Death released all the souls onto the new world and the Valar gave them back their physical forms before allowing them to roam across all three of the new continents before a judgement as to their nature could be made. The souls had spent too much time in the void between states of existence to retain their memories and personalities of the old world. Harry could feel the Valar’s wish to grant them a second chance and achieve a peaceful co-existence just as he could feel Caelum’s rising fear and anger at the influx of muggle souls.

As time passed, Caelum’s hate grew and Harry could feel other magical presences beside the boy, fueling his fear and hatred. He prowled the middle lands that had been created with mortal, non-magical beings in mind and laid them to waste. Then one day, he came across something that caused both him and Harry pause – elves.

They weren’t a race known to either of them before this moment. They weren’t magical, but had the capacity to interact with magic; they were mortal, but could exist for millennia; they had no purpose predetermined by an existence in the previous world, but were forging their own path. Distantly, Harry knew them and understood himself to be responsible for their existence. He had done this, creating new souls just like Death had said he was capable of doing. He could also feel Caelum’s hesitation to disturb them, but succumbing to his followers’ poisonous whispers.

He allowed one of the other magical beings standing beside him – Sauron – to have his wish. They experimented on the elves, pulling and twisting their souls until they were certain they weren’t a danger to the existence of magical beings. Then Sauron went further, taunting Caelum for being incapable of creating new souls like the Valar were so obviously doing and manipulating him into proving himself by using the foulest of magics to reshape some of the new souls into a new type of being – orcs.

By the time the Valar became aware of the elves’ existence, it was too late. Caelum had been too deeply corrupted by the magics he wielded and his thoughts poisoned by the fear and mistrust of his followers – others who had also been deeply hurt by the muggles in the old world. He was captured and imprisoned for Three Ages while the Valar restored peace.

Dragons, basilisks, orcs, ogres, giants, werewolves, vampires, demons, goblins and others who had joined Melkor’s – as Caelum was known to them – armies were sent to the Dark Lands were they were to remain until they were capable of existing without laying ruin to the world. Veela, dwarves, mermaids, phoenixes, centaurs, unicorns and their kin were left to run loose on the fourth continent that had been created for their use.

When it proved that muggles had suffered greatly during the conflict, magic was directed to wipe their memories of past events that had taken place both in this and the old world. They were allowed to dwell on Middle-earth and Harry approved of the effort so he directed his thoughts into creating more souls for their race, the race of Men. With no prejudice from the past world fueling their hatred for everything magical, he had no reason to deny them a second chance.

As for the elves, the Valar greeted them with open arms. Luna favoured them and, as always, seemed to know something about them that others did not, and the rest readily invited them to join them onto the Undying Lands. Some accepted, others remained on Middle-earth, curious about the new world they found themselves in.

Out of the elves that left for Aman, the Ñoldor elves proved to be the most skillful. Fred marveled at their eagerness to learn and even allowed one of them, Fëanor, to forge three jewels from the very essence of the Two Trees of Valinor – the Silmarils.

When Caelum was released after begging for forgiveness at the end of the third Age of his imprisonment, Harry could hear the lies behind his every word but did not have the heart to intervene. When he started manipulating the elves into turning against the Valar and banded with a giant spider, of all things, to destroy the Two Trees, Harry’s soul cried in despair, even as he turned away. He would not deny Caelum his revenge even when it was misdirected and disproportionate.

This time, when the Valar attempted to create light, Harry pulled at the Core, demanding that it obey as the Sun and the Moon were given form. When Rosie expressed the wish, he pulled once more, giving shape to a myriad of stars. Maybe this was a new world, but if it was within Harry’ power, he would make sure that his loved ones had enough to remind them of home, even if he had to exhaust himself to see it done.

After that one act, Harry fell into an even deeper, exhausted sleep that could no longer be pierced by dreams. He could feel the weight of magic being pulled from the Core and through him into the new world, but he could no longer determine what it was used for. He could feel the war brewing and Caelum’s focus shifting to the Silmarils in an effort to deprive the Valar of all they valued as recompense for his imprisonment, but he could no longer focus on the specific happenings. He was cut off, but not forgotten as every time the Valar pulled at the magic, they sent a quick apology through the link. Harry was still there, sleeping and waiting for something to change.


End file.
